


Phantom Pain

by tirsynni



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alter!Ling, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Post-Series Pre-Movie, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tirsynni/pseuds/tirsynni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist seemed so far away…until Ling came into his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phantom Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Another transfer from my livejournal.

When Edward had first received the automail, it made the memory of losing his limbs pale in comparison. The Gate ate the limbs, devouring muscle and blood and nerves, so the phantom pain of the next morning outweighed the terror of watching his limbs dissolve into nothingness. Then he received the automail and learned that pain could always worsen.  
  
In this alien world, a world without the technological advances he had taken for granted, Edward received a new lesson in pain. The phantom pain he had only had until he received the automail haunted him at night. The straps holding his false limbs in place chafed, biting into frail flesh. If he didn’t take care, the skin would be a bloody mess at the end of the day.  
  
And, of course, the pain of humiliation. The pain of each stumble, the pain of independence’s memory, the pain of the pity in people’s eyes, including Hohenheim’s.  
  
When he returned home, Edward would never take his automail for granted again.  
  
Edward never quite learned the difference between false limbs and automail and how they affected his nervous system and muscles and skin, but after hours at the library, the stump of his leg would always be sore, his thigh stiff, and he stumbled until he could force his mask into place. Maybe it wasn’t the difference in technology so much as the difference between the Fullmetal Alchemist and him; he didn’t know. All he knew was he didn’t recognize the pained eyes in the mirror, the molten gold faded as much as this world.  
  
It didn’t matter. What mattered was how he stumbled when he stood up from the library chair and how someone else had to catch him before he hit the ground.  
  
“Get off me,” Edward snarled, jerking backward. His right leg steadied him, but he still almost fell again. Ignoring Edward’s words, the stranger reached out to steady him again. Edward thoughtlessly bared his sharp teeth, feeling more like an attack dog now than he ever had in the military.  
  
Of course, he couldn’t recall feeling this humiliated in the military, either.  
  
Edward ducked his head and hid behind his bangs as he steadied himself. His leg hurt worse than usual after being jarred, and his back was so tense that he wanted to tear off the false arm and throw it across the room, ease and release the pressure building in his shoulders. When he looked up, teeth still gritted, the man stood there staring at him. Edward blinked.  
  
“My apologies,” the stranger said, his accent strange to Edward’s ears. The stranger bowed a little. Edward narrowed his eyes and studied him. Black hair tied off in a short ponytail at his nape, tilted, dark eyes, sharp features…not Xingian. Xing belonged to another world. “I did not mean to startle you.”  
  
“You didn’t,” Edward said shortly, still trying to remember the Xingian equivalent in this world. He thought it ended with “-ese.” For such a dull world, sometimes it seemed so big.  
  
He shook his head and reached for his books. None of them were helpful at all. _None._  
  
“You are quite rude, aren’t you?”  
  
Edward’s head snapped up. “What?”  
  
Those dark eyes stared steadily at him. “You are quite rude,” he announced, “but I suppose it is forgivable. I am a startling figure.”  
  
Edward blinked again. What?  
  
The non-Xingian smiled at him, bright white teeth flashing. I am Ling.” He quieted and stared at Edward, still smiling that brilliant smile. Edward waited for him to continue, or at least clarify if it was a first or last name. When Ling just continued smiling at him, Edward realized that was all he was going to receive.  
  
“Edward,” he said and finished gathering his books. He would return them where he found them and go…back. Not home. Never home.  
  
But at least there he could strip off the false limbs for a while and just be still.  
  
“Hello, Edward,” Ling said cheerfully, as if completely oblivious to his cold shoulder. “Are you going home? I shall walk with you. In case you stumble again. I, you see, am not rude.”  
  
_That_ made Edward stop. Holding his books close to his chest with his left arm, Edward stared hard at the non-Xingian. Ling smiled back, black eyes giving nothing away.  
  
“Actually,” Edward said, drawing out the word, testing the thought even as he said it, “I’m going to get coffee. I think I need something to wake me up.”  
  
Ling’s lips quirked the slightest bit. “How wonderful.”  
  
Fifteen minutes later, they sat in a booth at the nearby coffee shop, surrounded by students. Drinking his coffee -- black, thank you -- Edward eyed Ling, with his unsurprising six sugars. He hadn’t thought of him as a possible student, but it seemed like a good place to start.  
  
“You seem very popular for such a rude person,” Ling commented, watching yet another student wave at Edward. Edward nodded back, eyes still on Ling.  
  
“I’m nice enough when people aren’t grabbing me from behind,” he retorted, the words flowing from his tongue. It was like sitting in Mustang’s office again, having a conversation seemingly about nothing. The nostalgia twisted Edward’s lips into almost a smile. Who would ever have thought that he’d be nostalgic for Mustang’s games?  
  
Ling smiled and took a sip of his coffee. His eyes were like Mustang’s, too. Edward took the opportunity to jump in with his own question. “Are you a student?”  
  
The smile remained steady. “Just a visitor. Perhaps you would like to give me a tour?”  
  
There was a lilt to his question that threw Edward off-guard, a glitter to his eyes that Edward had seen before on other people that always made Mustang defensive and generally ended with Mustang having words with the man and Edward being tossed out of the office. There was a challenge there, but he had no idea what it was. Still, even if he didn’t recognize the challenge, he never could turn one down. “All right.”  
  
Two hours later, Edward remembered why Alphonse always scolded him for blindly accepting challenges.  
  
Ling still chattered like a chipmunk beside him, unfazed by the long walk. The only thing he had let slip so far were his hands, occasionally sliding across Edward’s lower back before Edward hit him and snapped that he hadn’t stumbled yet. Still, it was possible that Ling had slipped something in the last twenty minutes or so and Edward just hadn’t heard. He hadn’t really been listening.  
  
His stump chafed like the false limb was scraping off flesh, and his nonexistent toes felt like someone was zapping them with an electric prod. His chest and back burned, not just due to the straps but his own determination to walk tall beside Ling.  
  
Was it only six months ago that he ruled the fields and plains of Amestris, always on the move with Alphonse at his side?  
  
Right then, Edward felt ancient.  
  
Ling’s stream of babbling about Europe’s dull buildings cut off, and Edward looked up at him, forcing his eyes to focus. Ling frowned back at him. Had Edward missed a cue? It seemed more like a monologue than a conversation.  
  
“You’re limping,” Ling observed, pausing in the middle of the sidewalk. A dark-haired couple glared at him as they walked around them, but Ling didn’t blink. “I should have considered your legs when I suggested this. Being so short, it would take twice the effort of my legs -- Ah!”  
  
Of course, Edward noted, watching Ling stumble backward and hold his nose, having a dead right arm definitely made his left arm more versatile.  
  
“Who are you calling,” he inquired, “so short he could get lost under afternoon traffic?”  
  
See? That was a calm question. And Hohenheim said he had no grip on his temper.  
  
Too bad he sounded tired even to his own ears.  
  
Ling wiped the blood away from his nose and scowled at him. Red stained his upper lip. “Violent and rude.” He wiped his nose again and studied Edward. “But as you are obviously ill, I will forgive you.”  
  
Edward glared. He bet he could actually break his nose with another punch.  
  
Ling grabbed his arm before he could swing again and began waving down a taxi with his other hand. “Come! You need to rest.”  
  
Or his jaw. That would definitely be more beneficial. Ling with a broken jaw.  
  
Ling whispered to the taxi driver so Edward didn’t catch where they were going until they pulled up in front of his father’s apartment. Edward stiffened. “Ling…”  
  
But Ling only hopped out of the taxi and left Edward to pay the glowering driver. The second Edward stepped out of the taxi, Ling grabbed his arm. “Come!” he insisted, dragging Edward to the building.  
  
“Who are you?” Edward growled, forcing a smile at the cleaning lady. She smiled back and didn’t look like she thought it odd a foreigner was dragging Hohenheim’s son up the stairs. Another hint as to the strangeness of this world. “How did you know where I lived?”  
  
Was the walk around town just a ploy to distract him? To tire him?  
  
And it had worked and the Fullmetal Alchemist seemed farther than ever.  
  
“I am Ling,” Ling said, and he went right to Edward’s bedroom. Edward flushed with rage and humiliation at Ling’s ease and the false limbs strewn about the room. They were a work in progress, dammit!  
  
Ling said nothing until Edward was sitting on the bed; then he looked at the false limbs. “I had guessed, but I didn’t know for sure.”  
  
Edward bared his teeth, the walls too close, his hands too empty. No alchemy but he wasn’t helpless, never helpless, even if nowadays he more readily struck between the legs. “What do you want?”  
  
Ling smiled brightly but it never reached his eyes. They glittered dark and hot. “Well, I originally didn’t want you. Then I met you and even though you are violent and rude and hot-tempered and shor-- Ow!”  
  
Well, it wasn’t quite between the legs, but Edward was slowly getting closer to breaking the asshole’s jaw.  
  
Rubbing the bruise on his cheek, Ling glared at Edward. “Very violent,” he corrected, the cheer dropping from his voice, “you are beautiful and fascinating, and I decided to take you with me.”  
  
Edward scowled and decided to ignore the odd comment about “beautiful” for now. He tucked it away for later. For now, he resisted the urge to cross his arms, not just due to the growing tension in his torso but for the extra mobility. At this rate, he was probably going to need all the freedom of movement he could get. “Where?”  
  
The intensity in Ling‘s eyes increased. A shiver raced up Edward‘s spine. He had seen that look before.  
  
“The world beyond this one,” Ling breathed. “Where you and Hohenheim come from. There, I could be true royalty.”  
  
Oh, yes. Edward had definitely seen that look before. But more importantly… Edward leaned forward. “How do you know about that?”  
  
More than just a strike between Ling’s legs, Edward had a pistol. He hated the very thought of it, but war had taught him the difference between want and need.  
  
He would not let this fool endanger his world.  
  
Something in Edward’s tone made Ling straighten. The fervor cooled in his eyes. “Word of Shamballa travels even now,” he explained casually, bright smile pasted on his face. “Your father has been quite avid about it.”  
  
What was that bastard up to now? Edward scowled.  
  
Either feeling very daring or very naïve, Ling knelt before Edward. He didn’t try to touch him, though; he just stared at him. “You go home, away from this wretched world, and I become royalty. Doesn’t it sound perfect?”  
  
Edward scoffed. As nostalgic as he felt for Amestris, he wouldn’t deny its own war-battered state. This fool expected to become royalty there? What stories had he heard exactly?  
  
But his world was so much brighter, and Alphonse waited for them there. He knew it.  
  
So Edward smiled, feeling like the Fullmetal Alchemist again sitting in the colonel’s office. “You have a plan then?”  
  
In that moment, there was no phantom pain at all.


End file.
